An Affair to Last a Lifetime
by Writerofdarkness6
Summary: She hated the rain. It brought memories that she was not ready to deal with. If she confronted them, they would be real. If she ignored them then they could all go away. This could all be a dream. Her life could be perfect again, before... before him. H/D
1. Authors Note

Author's Note:

I try not to have too many of these within the story, but I wanted to share how this story came to me. If you don't care, that's okay, I probably wouldn't read an entire chapter devoted to an A/N either. But I'll try and keep it short.

This story has been a muse of mine for quite some time. I started it as a challenge piece to the song 'Sober' by Kelly Clarkson, but as the ideas developed I realized this was going to be much longer than a one-shot song fic. The lyrics will be embedded throughout the story as it transforms. Normally I don't input the lyrics, but I felt they fit where they were put in.

Now, I have finished the first third or so of the story, and have the basic plot of the rest of it planned out. Some chapters may be shorter, some may be lengthy, but the story in itself is quite long.

Finally, I had posted this story before, but after getting into it again I have changed quite a few of the details and made it more progressive. If you have any questions or criticism please let me know, I'll do what I can.

From this point on, the only A/N's that will make their way into the story will be in response to specific reviews that I feel everyone needs to be aware of. And on that point, I will respond to all reviews, even if all you say is, "Like the Chappy!"

Thank you for your wonderful support throughout the years,

Elvra


	2. Remembrance

Chapter 1: Remembrance

She hated it when it rained. She could handle sun, she could live with snow or clouds, even when it was 40 degrees outside, she could deal with heat. But the rain she could not stand. It brought too many memories that she was not ready to deal with. Or rather, memories she refused to deal with. If she confronted them, they would be real. Yet if she ignored them then they could all go away. This could all be a dream. Her life would be perfect again, before … well, before_ him_. Her heart lurched at the single sliver of the thought of the one person of whom she had loved more than life itself. She would have died, killed even, just to be with him. Not that any of that mattered now, though. Three months. Three months ago today, her life ceased to be of any meaning.

"I miss you." she muttered into the empty darkness of her Central London flat. She knew no one could hear her, but she figured that if she said something then the hurt of the rain would go away. The drink in her hands remained untouched, as it had been since she had made it over an hour ago. She looked to the darkened afternoon sky in hopes that she might see some sign of how to recover from the stupidest mistake of her life. For the first time, Hermione Granger did not know what to do. Her eyes closed as she started to remember.

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"Do you ever think about the future?" She asked him. He turned to face her, the ragged blades of grass tickling his cheek as he looked over at her. God she was beautiful. Her hair fell in soft waves around her, her neck was delicate and pale, her breasts perfect and completely in proportion to her slightly petite and slender frame. When she shifted her eyes away from the night sky to his face, she smiled.

"All the time." He looked at her face for a moment longer before sitting up. Their town of Little-Ridge loomed across the distance, hardly noticeable save the few bright burning lights coming from one of the houses. He looked down again at Hermione, her chest rising and falling steadily as she continued to stare up at the stars, lying on the hill just to the back of their shared cottage a few kilometers outside of the town.

"What do you see? At this moment, when you think of the future that you want, that you would give anything for, that feels _right_, what do you see?" She spoke in a soft, yet defined whisper as her eyes never left their gaze of the thousands of specs of brilliant light laid across the velvet black backdrop. He lay back down on his side, his head resting on his hand as he continued to watch the emotions flicker across her face.

"I see you." He answered, watching her face closely. She finally turned her body to his, looking intently into his eyes. As a schoolboy, he would have been intimidated by her gaze, though he would never know it. Now he bared his soul to her when she did it. "I couldn't think of any future without you. I-" He paused for a moment, reaching a hand up to lightly run his fingers over her face. "I love you."

Her face remained in the same state of expressionless contemplation for only a moment before she gave him a small smile. Her warm chocolate eyes stared intently into his icy blue ones, even as she pressed her lips softly against his. Only when he pushed her down on her back to kiss her with no abandon did she close them, letting the pleasure of those three words ripple through her combining with the sensations created by the kiss. She reached up to run her hands through his impossibly soft hair, the copper strands running deftly through her fingers. His tongue slipped inside of her mouth, running softly against her own as they lost themselves into each other. He pulled back to look at her again.

"I love you, Hermione Granger."

She smiled softly as she pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"And I love you, Ron Weasley. More than you could possibly imagine."

His brief thoughts of arguing with her about that point were diminished as she leaned up to kiss him once more.

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Her life had been perfect then. Her days were spent doing a job that she loved, and her nights spent with a man that she loved more. They were young, barely out of University, they were beautiful, and they were in love.

But something was always missing. At times, when she would lie unfairly awake in the dead of the night she would look over his beautiful face and know that something was off. Then the morning would come, and she would forget she had ever thought of such a thing, going on with her routine like nothing had ever happened.

Then He came. Suddenly and without warning. She didn't mean for it to happen. Never once thought that she would let it happen. But He came and she realized exactly what she had been missing with Ron: passion.

She met him when she was walking her beloved Doberman, Scotty, one chilly September morning, the light barely starting to creep through the sky as the wind scattered the hair around her face. She could see him in front of her, walking leisurely towards her on the path, his molten silver eyes boring into hers with enough ferocity to make her nervous. He had a look in his eyes that she could not read, something beyond the normal hate and disgust she had known throughout her childhood. She couldn't define it. It was something he hid well enough so that she could not discern it, yet she knew it was there. His eyebrow raised a fraction of a centimeter as he stopped in front of her. He was… well, she would never admit it to a living human being, but he was gorgeous. Age had served him well. The last time she had seen him, he had been 15 or 16, at Hogwarts, a sliver of the man who stood before her now.

"Draco." She greeted politely. She hadn't seen him since Hogwarts, she had heard he went off to France to manage one of his family companies that was in a corrupted political crisis, and she had heard nothing of him being back in the country. He was dressed impeccably, pressed grey trousers, a black button up with his tie loose around his neck, and his suit jacket over his arm.

He stopped before her, clearly connecting his memory with her face. "Hermione." He inclined his head once. It was a half statement, half question. His voice was deeper now, more mature, more masculine. It held a sense of authority that even the most respectable of men would have agreed to whatever he had said. He pronounced every syllable of her name perfectly with natural elegance. "How are you?"

She hesitated. "I'm well." She paused, wondering what to say. It wasn't every day that she happened to be at a loss for words. "And yourself?"

"The same."

They stared at each other for a few moments, the silence growing more pronounced with every heart bear. Finally, she broke it.

"I'm working with the Minister of Magic now, working on developing new internal defense strategies in the political system and the like. How about yourself?" The formality that should have been present in the conversation was slowly slipping as he gestured to a nearby iron bench. Perhaps it was the glistening rays of the sun starting to peek over the trees that made her lose her tense demeanor that normally presided when she spoke to someone like him, or perhaps not. His less than perfect appearance had quite an impact as well, as he laid his jacket over the back of the seat.

"Well enough, trying to repair the damage my father did to the businesses the Malfoy's own." He reached down to pet Scotty, her grey mass of a dog. She had to giggle when Scotty's foot long tongue came out and tried to taste Draco's hand. She had expected disgust on his face, but instead he just laughed and wiped his hand off on his handkerchief he took from his pocket.

"I had heard you were in Marseilles, I didn't know you had come back to England."

He looked back at her. "Technically I haven't, I shall return to France in ten days. Luna Lovegood, I don't know if you remember her, sent me a letter asking if I would assist her in dealing with some legal issues brought to her dealing with her husband's Last Will and Testament. Since I owe her the vast majority of my life and freedom from my father, I figured it would be the least I could do." He picked up a nearby stick and threw it a few feet away, watching the dog enthusiastically pick it up and start to bring it back.

Her curiosity got the better of her. "What sort of issues? Property or otherwise?"

He glanced at her, before starting in a round of tug-of-war with the branch. "I believe it has to do with the fact that her husband addressed her as his wife in the Will when there is no existing document that claims they were, in fact, married. Normally it wouldn't be a problem, but his family is protesting it." He grinned as she got that tell-tale curiosity in her eyes that seemed to belong there.

"Who was she married to?" she asked in a rush. This was too good to pass up. She remembered Luna. A colorful character to be polite, she was the type of person who could walk into any room and be perfectly at home, whether it be at the royal halls of Buckingham or the slums of London. She had helped Draco deal with his father's growing Alzheimer's and his destruction of the family company, being particularly excelled in economic strategies, even as a child.

"Theodore Nott."

"You're kidding, right?" He shook his head. "Those two were married? Blimey." She laughed along with him at the mere thought of it. The initial awkwardness was starting to decease. "Where are you staying?"

"The Rosen Crown. I stayed at her house for a night to get the brief of the case before realizing that I couldn't take the constant noise that seems to go on in that place. I never realized she could have that many dogs."

"Surely not, how many?"

"She's currently housing six, four are hers, and two are her neighbor's who is in Portugal. I didn't think she could ever be a dog person."

She smiled. "Nor I" Their eyes locked for a moment more before Draco started to speak again.

"Hermione. If you're not busy, would you mind having dinner with me, tonight?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "I don't know Draco," she paused, trying to think of a subtle way to tell Draco that she was seeing someone. "I don't know how kindly Ron would take to the idea…"

He smirked. "You're still with Weasley then?"

She smiled back at him, pausing for a moment. "Yes, I am."

He got that strange look in his eyes again, the look she couldn't define. It puzzled her, it looked remarkably like… want. "And are you happy with him?" The question took her off her guard. They'd been dating for the better part of eight years. Of course she was happy. She answered quickly.

"Yes, of course." A sliver of doubt crossed her face for only a moment, but he caught it. Was she happy with Ron? He was made for her, right? He was the One. He was her child hood sweetheart. Of course she was, they were always happy, always ….

"Are you sure about that Hermione?"

"I've been with Ron for years. He's been nothing but good to me." She started to get defensive, grabbing Scotty's leash and standing. He stood with her, catching her arm as she tried to walk back to the paved path.

"Stay, please. I only ask because we both knew of his tendencies back in school. I caught you more than once with tears in your eyes because of him."

Old memories she had long since suppressed came to the forefront of her mind, crying in the girls' bathroom, hearing yet another rumour that Ron had been with another girl that night instead of her, his characteristic aloofness and denial every time she confronted him of it… They had worked past it, they had graduated and his actions had stopped. The loneliness had gone away; he started to be more truthful to her. He never came clean about what she knew was the sure truth, and that hurt, but they had moved on.

"He's passed that." She said quickly.

"That's not what I've heard."

She stopped breathing for a moment. Surely not…

His eyes stayed unbreakably locked to hers as he took a step forward, bringing his hand to her face. Her lips parted slightly at the feeling of the pad of his thumb tracing them. Rationality was becoming hard to achieve as she was entirely aware of his leering presence over her, mixed in with her racing emotions.

When he kissed her, softly and barely moving, her eyes fluttered shut. As quickly as he had kissed her, he pulled back. Her mind started whirling a multitude of questions and accusations at her, clouding her sense of rationality. _'I can't believe I just did that…'_ She thought vaguely through the mess of emotion running through her. His voice cut through her reverie.

"I'll make a deal with you. Come to dinner with me tonight, at seven, and if afterwards you claim that you never want me to see you again, then it shall be so. However, if you decide otherwise, I would be more than happy to oblige." The tremor in his voice as he said the last few words sent a chilling shiver through her. She licked her lips before looking into his eyes again. Even as she said it she questioned herself.

"Then I'll see you at seven. For dinner, only."


	3. The Beginning, Pt 1

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**And I don't know  
This could break my heart or save me  
Nothing's real  
Until you let go completely**

**  
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All day at work, Hermione could not get the morning's incident out of her mind. She debated telling Ron about Draco being in town. He would immediately become defensive and suspicious. After all, it was just dinner. Nothing was going to happen. Ron and Draco had always been rivals at school, everyone knew that. From Quidditch to grades to money, they were competitive. Draco always won. It drove Ron crazy. She couldn't tell Ron that Draco was here, much less tell him that she had agreed to a dinner date. The thought of Ron's reaction made her shudder. There was no way he would understand, even more so because she had yet to fully justify it to herself.

Her thoughts plagued her, troubled her. She had never had this much internal conflict with herself before. Against her will, flashes of her and Draco together ran through her mind. Draco kissing her, running his lips down her neck, working his hands up her skirt and smirking to find out that…

She blushed furiously, shaking her head to clear herself of such thoughts. This was all too much. She was better than this. Smarter, safer, more rational than this. Nothing was going to happen between her and Draco.

But Ron…

She wouldn't tell him. She would tell him she was going to have a drink with Michelle. He knew Michelle, but barely. She had been a Ravenclaw several years younger than the two of them. He knew her enough to know she was going through relationship problems with her fiancé. He would believe that story. It was a good one, practically flawless. Because she couldn't tell him.

A shocking pang went through her chest.

She was going to lie to him. She blinked furiously, trying to get her thoughts together. She had never lied to Ron, it was one of her firm beliefs that there should always be honesty and trust in a relationship. It was also one of the reasons that their relationship had suffered so much in the beginning.

Her thoughts raced back and forth to each other in a bloody battlefield. It was _Draco Malfoy._ But she had already accepted dinner. And as much as she hated to admit it to herself, she was looking forward to it. This was not just a dinner agreed to in order to satisfy Draco's wishes. This was a date. The thought of it made her giddy. She hadn't been on an actual date with years. Once she had moved in with Ron, their romantic life had died to a few candlelit dinners a year and Muggle movies on the sofa. Her mind drifted away from Ron and onward to the school-girl dreaming of tonight. It was just dinner, but it was a good change from her usual routine of nothing.

Even if it wasn't Ron she was due to have some fun herself. She deserved this. She and Draco had been good enough friends the last year in school. They were never buddies, per say, but they tolerated each other and had a mutual respect for each others academic ability. It was _just_ dinner, she repeated to herself over and over again throughout the day. Just dinner to catch up with each other. She wouldn't allow anything else to happen, and as she left the office at 4:30 to make her way home she couldn't help the devil on her shoulder's last thought creep into her mind: _Famous last words. _The thought was gone as quickly as it came.

As expected, Ron wasn't there when she got home. He was a reservist for the Cannons, just like he had always wanted. But he also wanted to play Quidditch for real, on the starting line up. So he drug himself through the mud and back to show to his coaches how determined he was. Consequently, he worked later than she did, and more often. Quickly, she started stripping off her work outfit, starting the shower and preparing herself for dinner. Pulling out her cell phone, she felt a massive knot in the middle of her throat. She had finally convinced him to get the Muggle device after arguing for quite sometime about instantaneous communication. The knot got bigger, yet that didn't stop her from dialing the number of Ron's cell.

_Ring. _

_Ring. _

_Ring. _

_Beep_. "Hey, Hermione. It's Ron. Since you're the only one that _ever_ calls me on this thing, leave a message and I'll give you a call when I get out of practice." Ron's merry voice came on the line before the automated operator informed her for the thousandth time how to leave a voicemail. Hermione's throat closed up. Her heart clenched. Could she do this?

"Ron, its Hermione…" She swallowed hard before continuing. "I wanted to leave you a voicemail telling you I won't be home until late tonight. Michelle, the girl I work with, had another fight with Eric," she paused as her stomach flipped violently. "So I'm playing therapist. I'll call you if it's later than 10." With a last thought, she added: "Don't wait up."

As she slowly closed the phone, she stared at herself in the mirror for several moments. Who was this person? She was not who she once was. That was the only answer she could give herself. But it was just a white lie, just so that she could enjoy herself without there being a fight about it. She loved Ron, but he was quite rash at times. Or… she thought…

Quickly, she turned away from the mirror before her thought pattern could continue. She walked into the bathroom to take a quick shower before she had to leave the house, a list of things running through her mind of things to be done.

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Her eyes slid open as she looked back across the dusky horizon muted with rain. She remembered alright. That day was the last day of the life she had known for so long; the last day of the routine, dismal, gray, and barren existence. Although as she thought about it, what had come later was much, much worse. Accepting dinner on that September morning was the beginning of the worst, or was it the best, mistake of her life.

She had spent weeks, months even, regretting it, replaying every second over and over again in her head until she couldn't bare it anymore. No amount of drinking, dancing, drugs, or other forms of false happiness had let it reside to anything less than a whisper at the edges of her shackled mind. She was broken, cracked at every corner with the center of her very soul caved in.

The worst part was that it was entirely her fault, and she could never be forgiven.

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Standing in front of the 'dress-up' rack of her closet, she shivered as she felt the water droplets sliding off of her steaming skin. She had no earthly idea what to wear. She didn't know where they were going, he had simply sent her an owl around lunch saying to meet him in the lobby of the Rosen Crown Hotel in London, an extremely luxurious wizarding hotel that Malfoy's real estate company had financed several decades ago. Why he wasn't staying at his ancestral home was beyond her, all she knew was to meet him at the hotel off 32nd and Kings at 6:30. There were some restaurants there, but all were ritzy and very high class. Some of them were Muggle, but she didn't think that would stop him. As she had overheard Pansy Parkinson say one time, "Just because they don't have wands does not mean that they can't fix good food. It's just a bit different."

Knowing Draco, he would have catered a jet and flown her to Paris, and Le Jules Verne to eat atop the Eiffel Tower if he thought it would please her. She smiled. It would be so like him. He never passed up a chance to impress someone. Especially with Ron involved. Flicking a small smile, she pushed dresses around until she found the one that she was looking for.

It was simple, a basic Tufi Duek, a successful but little known French designer out of Wizarding Barcelona. It was a present from Ginny and Harry for her twentieth birthday. The design was timeless. It truly was _her_ dress, both for her style and personality. It helped that it fit like it had been made for her.

A double layer of silk and lace fit snug around her waist, from her pelvis to directly under her chest. The plunging neckline and cap sleeves had been tailored to her proportions so they hugged her slender figure perfectly. Her cleavage was pushed up just enough to be sexy, whilst still maintaining the classic sophistication that she had always admired. The pencil cut on the skirt stopped half an inch above her knees and paired with the right stilettos made her legs go on forever. She had definitely matured from her school days. She hoped Draco would see that, so as not to reduce them to their childhood animosity.

No matter where he took her, she would be appropriately dressed, she decided. Wizard or Muggle. It had been ages since she had gotten to wear it and it truly was one of her favorite pieces. Slipping the dress off of its hanger, and stepping into it, she almost sighed as she felt the cool black material sliding against her skin. Zipping it to the top, she looked at her self in the mirror for only a moment before taking it off to do her make-up and hair. Even though this morning, while on her morning walk her hair had been a tumbleweed it was now pinned delicately at the nape of her neck in a chignon. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. Draco wouldn't know what hit him.

At 5:19 she was finishing up the last few perfecting touches on her hair when she heard the door open. Facing quickly to the door, she grabbed her suit jacket off the floor to place on top of her shoulders. A few moments later and she was out the door, apparating to the grand hotel.

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Goosebumps ran over her skin, even through the fox-fur shawl she had wrapped around her shoulders. She was willing to bet anything that it was more due to nerves than to the chill of the hotel lobby, but none the less the lobby was cold. She had arrived early, at around six fifteen, and stood at the bottom of the grand staircase leading up to the hotel's house restaurant, Riad's, waiting impatiently for Draco to make his presence known.

The hotel manager had greeted her when she entered the lobby through the Entrance Hall, asking if her name was Hermione Granger. When she said yes, he explained that Draco was going to be only a few minutes, and then he would join her at the precise location she was standing: the bottom of the grand staircase. She kept looking up at the carpeted stairs, marveling at the Edwardian elegance of it all. She couldn't help but remember the classic scene from Titanic, and the thought made her laugh quietly to herself. Of course, Draco would not know anything of that.

"What exactly is so amusing, Ms. Granger?" Draco said softly into her ear.

She jumped, placing her hand on her chest as she breathed heavily. "Good Lord, you scared me Draco."

"I'm sorry," he smiled at her, and she was assured that he didn't mean it one bit. "It wasn't my intention at all."

Trying feebly not to crack a smile, she retorted sharply. "How purely Slytherin of you. Don't even start with the innocent act, Draco. I've known you for longer than I've cared to, and I know for a fact that you don't have an innocent bone in your body."

Placing a hand to his heart, he put on a pathetic puppy dog face. "You wound me, Hermione. Really now, for someone nice enough to take a wench like you to diner you really are harsh." He tried to take her hand.

Her smile dropped as she stepped back, genuinely affronted. "A wench? Well you can save that dinner for someone who actually wants it." She turned on her heel towards the door.

"Where are you going?" He asked, blocking her path with his person. His grey suit had been replaced with a black one, a very fine satin grey shirt beneath his double breasted jacket, his shoes polished until she could see her reflection in them as she stared at them for a moment before looking up.

"I'm going home."

As she took a step away from him, she felt rather than heard his laughter. She felt his hand on her slender wrist, pulling her back to him. He smiled at her. "Fine, I confess." He said, taking both of her hands in his. "I'm a dirty, rotten liar. You're not a wench at all; in fact you are one of the most intelligent, cunning, compassionate people I know. And you look absolutely _stunning_ tonight, in my dreams I could not have pained a more perfect picture."

She was struck speechless, standing in all of her cocktail attire with her shawl sliding down one arm. Draco Malfoy, compliment her? She didn't know what to think. She was able to do nothing but stare into his electric blue-grey eyes. She knew he was a good speaker, but even she couldn't resist _that. _And she'd hated him for almost half her life.

Taking a stem from the last statement, she simply murmured a quiet "Thank you".

He released her hands. "You should only be thankful for compliments. The truth is mere fact, and should be stated whenever possible. Now my dear, shall we go to dinner?" He offered her is arm, looking positively lavish in his dark double breasted suit. She was in deep, deep trouble if he kept this up. Hesitating for only a moment, she took his proffered arm, giving him a sincere smile and walked step and step with him outside into the crisp, clear, starry night.

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"I cannot believe you did that!" She exclaimed, shock clearly on her face. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you could have gotten into?"

He smiled at her, taking another drink of his chardonnay as they waited for their meals. "It wouldn't have been fun if there wasn't a danger involved, love. After all, it was only a dead carcass, it wouldn't hurt anything." Only saying such to provoke her into another of her extremely sexy reprimands, he sat back and listened to her preach about.

"It was not _only_ a dead carcass; it was a dead carcass of a kneazle in the headmaster's office! Chained to his _wall_ none the less! I still fail to believe how you made it out of that school alive and with all of your skin still attached. You know, Dumbledore wasn't such a bad man. He really cared for you. Of course, maybe _that's _how you made it out alive…" She reached for her own wine and smiled at him over the glass. Their eyes stayed locked, emotions and thoughts spreading wordlessly between the two of them. Finally the mounting tension became too strong for Hermione to handle. As an escape, she looked around at the beautiful restaurant, immaculately decked in white, cream, and a deep mahogany.

Restaurant Gordon Ramsey. That was where he had taken her, possibly the best restaurant in Muggle London and some of the finest cuisine in Europe, outside of France that is. The white roses on the table brought a pleasant scent, adding to the quaint, polished, utterly romantic atmosphere. Slowly, it seemed as if the colors were becoming clearer to her.

"_Amazingly, _I've been told that before."

His words brought her eyes back to him, being drawn in, captivated, getting drunk on the feeling he gave her when she merely looked into his eyes. Her mouth went dry again, as it was beginning to becoming prone to doing. Unconsciously, she leaned forward to him fractionally, placing her hand on the table as she fiddled with her bracelet.

"However," he started, placing his hand over hers, "I am very glad that I have survived this long. Had I not, I would not have had the chance to fully meet you, and discover your wonderful charm and character." Again, her mind went into battle with itself. The feeling of his skin on hers, if even with their hands, was sending currents through her system. She was sure the amount of wine she was drinking had nothing to do with that.

One part of her demanded that she leave _now_, never speak to him again, and go home to the man that loved her. Draco was, after all, one of the biggest bachelors the Wizarding World had every seen. There was no way this would turn out well. The rumors alone could ruin her. The other part of her fought back fiercely and with incredible finesse. It said that she had spent too long living a life that deep, deep down she hated. If she was going to spend the rest of her life with someone, she had to make sure it was the right someone. There were no do-over's in this aspect of her life, not without an incredible amount of pain involved. So, it stated, metaphorically leaning back in its arm chair gloating in its sure victory, let tonight happen. Stop thinking about tomorrow, live a little. Think about the consequences tomorrow. She turned quickly, steadying herself for a moment as the room swirled around her.

But her biggest hit was a simple question. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system, maybe it was the electrifying presence of Draco in front of her. Either way, the question did not hide from her conscience. Do I still love Ron? Of course she did. He was her soul mate. He was… He was all she had.

She couldn't think about that now. She would think about that later, but the thought reoccurred. If you loved him, you wouldn't be doing this. But it was just dinner, just a fancy dinner at an incredible restaurant, with a charming, gorgeous gentleman. The wine soon clouded that train of thought.

So instead of withdrawing her hand, she turned it to wrap her fingers around his and smiled softly at him. "Then I guess I should write a thank-you note to Dumbledore for allowing me to have this incredible night."

Alarm sketched over Draco's face. "Oh no dear, you mustn't do that. If you did it would refuel his entire revenge mission against me and I don't know how many more of these nights I would be around to give you. He may seem like a fair and gentle being, but you've never been on his bad side."

A playful smile spilled over her lips as she looked at him over her glass. "And just how many of these nights were you planning on giving me?" She asked, curiosity getting the better. He lifted her hand to his lips and laid a soft series of kisses on her knuckles, making her shiver. _'I've had too much wine,' _she thought, as she couldn't bring herself to withdraw it. There was a slight buzzing in her ears. She barely heard his next words.

"As many as you're willing to let me."

She laughed at him, rolling her eyes to erase the awkwardness that would have ensued had she let it. She knew he wanted her, she knew a small part of her wanted him. Maybe not so small a part, as was apparent by the liquid heat coursing through her at his touch. She shouldn't be doing this. She should leave now, say her goodbyes, not let this get farther than it already had. She withdrew her hand from his, pausing for only a moment, before filling her glass once more and allowing the night to take its own course.


End file.
